THE NEXT MORNING, Zinga and Kujo were coming out of their cabin, heading to the area where they practised their target shooting—the vigilant Joe was on still on vedette-duty—spying out through the diaphanous curtain of the window while giving Reeves the updates of every Jamaican movement and activity with a touch of malign...

"Their breakfast of egg white splooge is done; Zinga is out with his lover-boy Spooky Kujo, they are heading for practice."

Outside, Kujo has started working his crossbow on a different target board under a tree while Zinga was petulantly looking at his wristwatch.

Inside, Reeves was on a new hush-hush development with Troy who was pointing at some data in the laptop screen on the dining table. Reeves kept looking up—noticing Joe and True Bob were doing their regular routines with constant niggling—he spoke in a low whisper...

"Troy, are you sure?" The Intersexual buddy responded with nods...

"Yeah man, it has been more than a month since they moved her."

Since the standoff with the Jamaicans yesterday, Troy too felt their presence at Lake Huntington was nearing to insignificance. Their current mission was in jeopardy with the interference of the certain fraction of street gangsters in The One God's Army who operated with their own self-serving interest which was opposed to the Preacher's unity objective preached in his sermons.

Reeves had beforehand discussed with Troy who was in charge of the team's Intel and strategist of their mission in Lake Huntington—they both agreed that aborting the Cory assassination mission was the only option to stay alive, and everyone should go their separate way from then onwards as deserters—but right now, their first stumbling block was the ferocious Jamaicans watchdogs and Li Chi's influence on them since the OGA's major defeat in New Orleans.

Troy now understood why Reeves wanted to take off and head east since they got their freedom from Tombscradle—he would have then gone off with Marlin to find for Laura Jensen in a hospital in Washington—and Reeves would have met a dead-end because many events have changed since the last information Reeves had gained at Tombscradle's infirmary—and now Troy was setting his good friend at the right path; the path to Los Angeles...

"Please double-check bro, it can be someone else."

Troy browsed the files that he had recently hacked, and he showed another page on the laptop to Reeves...

"I have run checked it a few times—see this, like the nurses who spoke last at TC infirmary that Mimi Jensen was transferred from St. Elizabeth's hospital in DC—but now they have moved her again to Cedar-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles for a Transcranial Magnetic Stimulated treatment...

"I even checked what TMS treatment is—and it is related to brain injuries and coma patients, and see here, the transfer document was signed by someone with initials, A.W—sounds familiar, bro?"

"Agatha Wolfe?"

Reeves uttered while he recollected seeing the photo of Agent Wolfe in the Council of 13's ten recently. The Secret Service woman was also briefed once at the AOG camp as one of the most dangerous members in Cory's staff; and even Reeves had a brief encounter with her at the age of twelve while at Wesleyan University, the day before the research facility was shut-down by the woman in the suit from Washington.

He heard Troy reconfirming that his virtuoso discovery—it snapped his reveries. "Yeah, do you remember that she is one that the Preacher himself told to keep a lookout for in one of his sermons in the desert?"

Reeves recalled again of one of Doran's current sermons in the Mojave Desert where he indirectly indicated that Wolfe had threatened to kill his monastery flock, and that action by Whitehouse Secret Service woman had him initiated his insurgency in the Tombscradle penitentiary.

Reeves now grinned, grabbed Troy's wrist.

"Thank you very much, Troy."

He further communed to Troy to keep Laura Jensen's findings a secret between the both of them, like the rest of the cell-group members will oppose to the idea of going their separate ways—because the Cory assassination mission was what has kept the group tight so far—and he does not want any confrontation with them at this point which may then arouse the Jamaicans' suspicion of them planning of deserting...

"You know Joe, right?" Reeves humoured to Troy by makes a duck-mouth gesture with his fingers. They both laughed.

Reeves stood up and sling his rifle on his shoulder and he heard Troy saying. "Okay, I will now work on the Jamaican's conversations recording to see if there is anything more—they sure may have talked a lot of sweet nothings last night," Troy continued his listening in the role in his intelligence and surveillance designation to keep the team from any unseen danger.

"Okay, you do that," Reeves went over and saw True Bob domiciled in the kitchen, turning some potatoes—and the upset half-Cherokee asked him, stating the obvious mission routine...

"Aren't you supposed to be target practising out there with those blackies?"

"Get your gear and come with me, Bob. This time, don't forget your pistol."

Reeves clearly remembered True Bob's first kill when he put Head-bull Anderson down during the breakout in Tombscradle—now he expected trouble at the moment he stepped out of the lake-house front door...

*

Zinga watched Kujo crossbow accuracy in hitting a bulls-eye on the target-board. He looked at his watch again—and for the first time Jensen was late for his practice, it brewed his agitation that Reeves was making his own rules since yesterday's standoff incident...

Reeves then stepped out of the lake-house with True Bob—20 minutes late—and they both walked past the target practice zone and were heading on to the dirt path towards forest. Zinga yelled out at him...

"Hey Jensen, where you think you are going? Get back here!"

"It is Sunday, I am taking the day off, Mon," Reeves replied in restive without looking back, with a teasing ersatz accent which infuriated Zinga even more in front of his regrouped team. All of the four Jamaicans were cursing in their own language.

Joe who was peeking out of the kitchen window was laughing away. "He is the same bolshie guy I knew at the University—no one can force Reeves to do anything—even the teachers back then cannot make him do his homework assignments."

He then saw the pursuant Busta and Spooky Kujo hastily trailing after them towards the forest; leaving behind the invective fuming Zinga and Vishon who were cursing at the lakeside.

*

They both pliably hiked the uphill trail, Reeves pointed ahead, panting. "Hey Bob, let's go there to that ridge there and see where it takes us. We will probably bag something interesting there."

Bob nod in taciturn—and hoped they find some red meat even if it was just a miserable rabbit. They both then ascended to the higher grounds where it was rocky with lesser shrubbery.

"Two darkies are following us," Bob said casually—and Reeves replied back in veracity without turning behind. "I know, let them."

**

True Bob and Reeves started scaling on the rocks to ascend the terrain to reach the other side of the ridge. The two Jamaicans who were not skilled at rock-climbing begin to expletive obscenity at the duo's precarious stint, before finding an alternate route to catch up with them...

The two blacks reached the other side but can't locate Reeves and True Bob, "Where are they?" asked the cross-bowed armed Kujo to Busta who was scanning the surrounding. He started insulting afoul seeing the thorny ridge...

"Are those motherfuckers hiding? They must have known that we are following them!"

They both were then jolted by a sudden high pitch growl—a male pique cougar was standing on a perch above, it's piercing eyes locked down at them before the beast leapt on a boulder and started descending below. The Jamaicans slowly backed away in reverse as the angry cat approached with sure steps—Kujo whispered...

"I can kill it, Busta," but his mate held his forearm tightly and garbled. "No, don't make any sudden moves or it will pounce—let's just back off..."

The tenacious big cat kept on with its snarling and was nearing towards them, the Jamaicans were now standing at the edge of the cliff—and a couple of steps further would be a five hundred feet drop below to their definite death.

Busta still perceived he can best the creature by not show any aggression. "Don't show any fear, it can smell it on us, Kujo," Busta susurrated softly...

"Then what do I do, Mon—smile at it?"

The ferment Kujo was still determined to try killing it, reached for an arrow from his pouch with his vacillating hand coupled by the intense tension—with the cougar was only twenty feet apart from them—the edgy Kujo dropped the arrow while he tried to fit it on to his crossbow...

The cougar sleekly stride up before the beast sprung its leap at the two helpless quarries—Reeves fired his silencer muzzled rifle at the big cat while it was volatile in midair, the animal dropped dead near at the Jamaicans' feet.

The Jamaicans have rung away from the edge of the cliff—and both squatted down in respite, staring at the dead beast with its hollowed-out brains—both the blacks rake their sight up at a different ridge afar at Reeves and True Bob looking down at them. Tacitly the two Jamaicans resolved to not pursue them; the duo settled to return back to the camp at the lake.

Reeves pointed at the dead animal below. "You got any recipes for cougars?" he ribbed his guide who snubbed back at him...

"Fuck you, Reeves, I am not Chinese—and I don't eat any shit that moves."

Reeves was laughing while he followed the annoyed half-Cherokee from the back.

*

Zinga was peeing near some bushes by the cabin and Vishon stride up to him and saying something while pointing towards the lake...

The two white boys who were earlier swimming were now messing with one of the floatplanes.

"What is di matter with dis cracker-ass sons of bitches, every hour they are getting to be a handful of nuisance fucks—I am going over to chop their motherfucking hands now!"

The tensed-up Zinga and Vishon set off to the dock where the three tied-up floatplanes were drifting stationary on the lake. Troy was in the cockpit of one of the floatplanes in the lake while Joe tried to crank the propeller blade to get it started.

*

Busta and Kujo were coming down in the steep slopes trek when they heard the sound of underbrush juddering ahead—they squat down and slowly crept up to sneak at the moose cow and her calf grazing below.

*

Two Bob strolled ahead and he stumbled upon a patch of vegetation at the edge of the ridge, and he went on exclaiming at the verdant, "oh-my, oh-my!" he crouched and he was plucking and he examined the terrestrial leaves.

"You decided to have a salad tonight?" Reeves was still poking him at the choice of the provender...

He was in a good mood all morning since Troy told that Laura Jensen was in Los Angeles—and that was just a couple of hours away from the lake they were at...

Bob passed the leaf to Reeves saying, "this is huasca."

"What's it?" replied Reeves back, jutting out an uncertain shoulder shrug.

"Ayahuasca—it can cause a high level of hallucination when consumed."

"I pass, I am not a stoner...you go on ahead," Reeves said while he observing Bob pulling out his bow knife and cutting the vine of the plant while he elucidated more...

"It is not for us—but for your groid-friends...I will do something out of it..."

Reeves was baffled by True Bob's last sentence...

'What was he up to?'

*

Zinga and Vishon reached the float-planes where Troy and Joe were tampering with. Zinga armed with a machete spotted on the side of the plane has a painting of a nude smiling blond woman lying on her belly with the name of the plane tinted below—'The Lady of the Lake.'

Zinga began shouting when he got nearer.

"Hey you two, what are you doing?"

Joe was speechless by both of their threatening presence with the big blade. Troy climbed out from the cockpit, chuckling and he responded back to the vociferous duo...

"Its nothing dude, we are bored—the plane was lying here unwanted, we were just fooling around with it."

"What if you get injured, Mon? If dat were to happens, I will shoot you like dogs because nobody leaves camp for any cock-shit medical attention. Now both of you get out of there—and stay away from those fucking planes... that dead owners' spirits from hell are in those planes, and it may want to harm us because you crazy white fools are still keeping those bones in that cursed house..."

Zinga was distracted by Vishon exclaiming behind him...

"Zinga, look what they have brought back!"

Troy, Joe and Zinga glanced ahead to see the other two Rastafarians shouldering back their kill, perched on a wooden pole—the dead moose calf hung downside with three arrows impaled in its dangling neck and sides.

Even Joe with the voracious appetite was rousing. "Wow! Look at that Troy, they are gonna have a feast tonight—I hope our guys will damn bring back something as good as theirs—damn, I am already salivating!"